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CHAPTER THIRTY
REN
* * * * * *
2006
SUMMER ALWAYS MADE everything better.
Longer days, warmer nights, happier animals, and a crap-load of work that needed doing.
When Della jumped on the school bus each morning, I’d throw on the cargo shorts and t-shirt that I’d stolen—that frankly needed to be replaced soon—and head to the back door of the main house.
There, John Wilson would meet me, try to convince me to share a cup of coffee with him and his wife—which I always refused—before listing what he’d like done for the day.
To start with, he came with me, not quite sure of my skills or abilities on using heavy machinery or trusting my methods on doing things.
Within a few days, I’d surprised him that I knew how to drive a tractor, how to attach different equipment like mowers and balers, and had the strength required to lift things even he couldn’t lift.
Mclary had been good in that respect—he’d given me a crash course on how to build muscle that no ten-year-old kid should have, which only increased in strength now I was fifteen. He’d shoved me in his cantankerous tractor when my feet barely reached the pedals and expected me to figure out how to use it because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be getting any scraps for di
Thanks to that harsh education, I could make John’s temperamental tractor purr like a sports car.
Occasionally, I’d catch him watching me with a mixture of awe and sadness.
I didn’t like that look.
I didn’t like him pitying my past while being astounded at my present.
It made me feel like a freak.
However, slowly, as more time passed, and he trusted me with more and more responsibility, the more I grew into my belief that I was worth something, even if I only had nine fingers and a rusty knowledge of reading and arithmetic.
I liked being busy because it gave me something to occupy my time with until the school bus would trundle down the road, screech to a halt at the top of the Wilson’s driveway, and Della would bound down its steps and charge to wherever I was on the property.
It didn’t matter if I was in the furthest field or on the highest roof, she found me, demanded a hug no matter how sweaty and gross I was, then promptly sat down, pulled out two juice boxes from her rucksack, and gave me one.
The first time she produced a bag-warm blackcurrant juice, I’d raised an eyebrow and asked where she’d gotten it from. Thanks to John Wilson keeping my salary, he had the cash to buy food for Della as well as his own children, and when Cassie left for high school and Liam left for an all-boy’s primary, Della was always third in line to receive a lunch bag full of fresh sandwiches, yoghurt, water, and a cookie or two.
I stood beside her every morning to make sure she said thank you and didn’t miss the bus, so I knew what she had to eat and drink and what she didn’t.
Turned out, she’d watched me closer than I thought whenever I’d steal something. She’d become a perfect little thief, and when the school provided extra juices to ward of dehydration during recess, she’d grab three. One for then, and two for later.
I warned her she’d get caught and wouldn’t be allowed to go to school anymore.
But every day, she returned home and smugly gave me her pilfered juice box, proud and happy. She said she thought about me even when I wasn’t there and wanted to make sure I had enough liquid while working out in the heat.
The fact that she cared and thought about me when I was so sure she’d be enthralled by new friends and teachers and forget all about me made my heart burst.
I couldn’t believe I’d ever thought I didn’t want her.
I couldn’t stand remembering how I’d left her behind, if only for a few days.
My life wouldn’t be nearly as rewarding if she’d never stowed away in my backpack and become my most favourite thing in the world.
And just like Della was my one and only, she was loved by each Wilson just as much. Liam would often search her out after he came home from school, and they’d play tag or swim in the river that cut through the Wilson’s back paddock. Cassie took her under her wing and taught her how to be around horses safely, how to brush them, feed them, and even, on a muggy summer night, helped her climb aboard and led her around the paddock where Cassie jumped and schooled her horses.
Della had fallen asleep that night with the biggest grin on her face, legs and arms star-fished under the blankets in utter bliss. I’d watched her sleep for a while before sneaking from the bedroom and going to thank Cassie.
Her bedroom window was above a goldfish pond with pretty lily pads and noisy frogs. I often wondered if the position of the quaint pond directly beneath Cassie’s window was to prevent her from easily scaling the flat roof and shimming down the ivy growing on the brick.
The more I got to know her, the more I learned who she was, and she had a rebellious streak. She might love her parents and brother, but she didn’t necessarily like rules. She’d already tried dope, drank with her friends when she said she was staying the night to do homework, and generally acted like an adult when really, she was still a girl.
In many ways, Della seemed older than her with her serious attitude, utmost concentration on learning new things, and almost magical way she retained everything.
Where Cassie favoured sarcasm for laughter, Della preferred wit and a dry sense of humour. Where Cassie protected Liam and got angry with him over the slightest thing, Della cared for me as deeply as I cared for her, and we never had stupid arguments.
When we had arguments, they were never stupid, but hell, they were loud and long and drained me until all I wanted to do was kneel before my tiny ribbon and beg her to forgive me, even if it wasn’t my fault.
That night, as I stood by the pond and threw a small pebble at Cassie’s window, I knew I was crossing the friendship boundary that we’d danced around ever since that first kiss a few months ago.
She hadn’t tried to kiss me again, and I was too much of a wimp to try myself.
Yet here I was about to do something that made my legs quake and belly knot, and in a way, it was thanks to Della.
It was her happiness that made me want to make Cassie just as happy because I was so damn grateful she’d befriended her. The fact that she let Della ride her prized pony was one of the most selfless things I’d seen her do.
Her window slid up on the third pebble, her brown hair mused from her pillow and one cheek red from lying on her side. “What gives? What’s happened?”
“Meet me at the kitchen door,” I whispered, keeping a close eye on her parents’ blackened bedroom three windows away.
Not waiting to see if she’d obey, I jogged around the farmhouse, avoiding the perfect flower beds that Patricia Wilson spent hours tending, and waited nervously as soft footsteps sounded on the flagstone floor then the rattle of a lock and opening of the door.
“It’s past midnight. Why am I out of bed?” Cassie blinked with blurry eyes. “You do realise Dad asked you to get up at dawn to do the first cut of the season, right?”
I nodded. “I know.”
“That’s in…I du
“I know that, too.”
“Well, how about you tell me what you’re doing here, so I know if you’ve gone insane or not.”
I smiled, climbing the small stoop so we were eye level. She was shorter than me but not by much. Her arms weren’t as strong. Her legs not as fast. Her smile not as pure as Della’s.